Survival Instinct

by Declan Conner

  “So he didn’t have sex with Grace?”

  “No she left around one thirty. There was no chance of reviving him; he was down for the count.”

  “Looks like I won the bet. Thanks, Sandra, have a safe journey home.”

  “No problem, anytime,” said Sandra.

  The call finished, Bill ejected the tape and tossed it to Jamie.

  “Bill, I don’t know what to say. I could kiss you!”

  “Don’t be stupid, it’s what buddies are for. But it won’t hold up in court; I don’t think they accept recorded evidence.”

  “That’s not the point. The fact is, I didn’t have sex with her, so it’s not my DNA. I can prove I stayed at the hotel and you can witness me being there in the morning, so even if she denies this conversation, I’m in the clear.”

  “God help her when she gets home. She obviously hasn’t heard about poor Grace,” said Bill.

  “Yeah, I don’t envy her when she finds out. By the way, you kept that quiet.”

  “How do you think I knew what they were up to? Been there, done that, just waiting for the tee-shirt,” said Bill laughing.

  “For God sake, the woman’s dead. What’s there to laugh about? By the way, why didn’t you report the break in at the cabin?”

  “Sorry, oh yeah, the cabin, oh I forgot. I’ll give them a call later.”

  Jamie had never felt so relieved. He glanced at an open file on the table as Bill went to make some coffee. There was a blank crossword page with no clues. Bill returned and they settled down to drink their coffee.

  “What’s the crossword page for?”

  “Top secret. I’m compiling a crossword for a competition in a local magazine,” said Bill. Leaning forward, he closed the file.

  Contents

  Restless night

  Chief Hogan was just about to solve the biggest crime of the century. He’d been working on it throughout his career. But first he had to cut the correct wire on the booby trap that would blow the evidence to pieces.

  “Red one, black one, green, blue one,” he kept repeating. One wrong move and we’re all dead! “Red one, black one, green, blue one.”

  “Just cut the freakin’ wire,” screamed Madge.

  Sweat ran down his brow and burned his eyes. Hogan steeled himself, closed his eyes and cut the wires. Click, click, click. Then hearing a ringing sound he opened his eyes.

  “For Christ’s sake, it was just a damn dream!” he shouted as he lifted his head from the pillow. He rubbed his eyes and picked up the phone almost falling out of bed as he juggled with the tangled chord.

  “Who is it?” he said gruffly, his wife stirred at the noise.

  “Operations, sir, there’s been another murder. A young woman. They want you down there.”

  “Right okay, I am on my way. Give me the address.”

  “Apartment 104, 55th Main West.”

  “Got it.”

  Turning on the bedside lamp, he could see the time. It was three in the morning.

  Dressing, he peeked out of his bedroom window. The rain was falling heavily obscuring his vision. He shuddered at the thought of having to go out in the bad weather. Making his way down to his car, he set off with a heavy heart. If we could’ve only nailed the bastard. Driving down the freeway, the rain was so fierce his vision blurred. The windshield wipers failed to keep up and he missed his exit.

  “Damn and blast,” he shouted, as he jammed on his brakes and reversed back to the ramp. Arriving at the scene, police cars haphazardly surrounded the entrance with the driver of the coroner’s van furiously screaming at one of the police officers to move his car. Hogan parked, and using a newspaper as cover, he made his way to the scene. Police officers huddled together at the door to avoid the rain.

  “For Christ sakes, outta my way,” he shouted, as he fought his way through. “Sergeant, sort this out, we don’t need so many cluttering the entrance, we only need two on the door and get some of those cars moved. Have forensics arrived?”

  “Yeah there’s one checking the stairway and others in the elevator.”

  Arriving at the door to apartment 104, he was handed some plastic slippers and surgical gloves by the coroner’s assistant.

  He ducked under the tape. Hogan winced at the sight. The young woman was naked, laying face up on the bed, her legs wide apart, her arms stretched out toward the top of the bed. There were signs of redness around her wrists and four stab wounds in her chest.

  “How long’s she been dead?” Hogan asked the coroner.

  “Not long, only about an hour I’d say. The blood hasn’t had time to congeal. The woman who phoned in said she heard a scream around two a.m. The officer found the door open when he arrived. Looks like it’s our man again. There are signs of duct tape being stuck over her mouth, but he’s taken it with him, along with whatever he used to tether her wrists, probably handcuffs. The entry wounds to the chest are one and a half inches, probably a heavy bladed knife. Oh, and you might want to look in the bathroom.”

  Hogan saw the writing in lipstick on the mirror.

  “It’s in the, eye consult?”

  “What does that mean? Slut, whore or something like that I could understand, but ‘It’s in the, eye consult?’ I don’t get it,” he said scratching his head. “Have you checked her eyes?” he asked the coroner.

  “Yeah, I thought that too when I saw the message, but there’s nothing.”

  Hogan flipped the cover on his mobile and made a call. “Frank, go to Jamie Jameson’s house right now and check his car out, but don’t wake him up. Park down the street and phone me back to tell me what you found.”

  “Have you seen the time?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen the time. We have another murder, so snap to it,” said Hogan and made his way back to his car to gather his thoughts away from the bustle. He went back to the apartment and into the den. A suitcase lay on its side on the floor by the door. He tried to lift it gently, but stopped when he realized it was full and the sergeant called him from the hallway.

  “What is it?”

  “The woman is Sandra Graham; apparently she’s been on vacation. The neighbors say she lives alone.”

  “Sandra?” Hogan redialed Frank.

  “For God’s sake, Chief, I’m outside Jamie’s house,” he whispered.

  “What was Grace’s friend’s name? I can't recall it.”

  “Sandra Graham. We went to her apartment but she was still away. Why?”

  “She’s been murdered. Anything at Jamie’s?”

  “The house is dark, curtains closed. His car’s in the drive, but the engine’s cold.”

  “Hmm, meet me back at the station,” he ordered as the coroner tapped him on the shoulder.

  “We’re finished. Looks like she’s been raped, but I’ll tell you more when I do the autopsy. Just bagging her up now to take her to the morgue.”

  “Have you and forensics taken all your photographs?”

  “Yeah, forensics are just in now,” he replied.

  Hogan approached the forensic guy, Jeff.

  “Found anything?”

  “No, but we’ll be here for hours yet.”

  “Check the computer for emails.”

  “We have, but we need to take it in, password protected.”

  “Gotcha, nothing I can do here. I’ll get back to the station,” he said. On his way out he gave the sergeant his orders. “I want every apartment checked; find out if anyone’s seen or heard anything suspicious.”

  “What. . .now?”

  “Yes now. Wake ‘em all up for God’s sake, it’s a friggin’ murder!”

  Driving back down the freeway Hogan was going through what he had seen and wondered if Jamie could be involved. His car engine would still be warm if he had used it in the last two hours. We don’t have anything to obtain a search warrant. Suddenly he realized he had missed his turn again and slammed on his brakes. Shit!

  Back at the station, he stopped at the coffee machine for a black coffee, whi
ch complimented his equally black mood. Frank was outside his office.

  “Come in, Frank, and fill me in. What did you find at the hotel?”

  “He stayed there all right. He used his credit card to pay the bill. The tape shows Grace, Sandra and Jamie going to his room at one. Grace left at one thirty, Sandra stayed until seven in the morning. Jamie came down at seven thirty and then left with his friend at eight thirty.”

  “What about the singles’ club?”

  “Spoke to a Margaret who runs the club. Apparently Jamie phoned her to complain that they’d spiked his drink and had sex with him.”

  “So that’s why she barred them?”

  “Yup. Says that she had heard rumors they liked to ‘double up,’ and spike the john’s drink with some kind of drug.”

  “Ha, so that’s why he didn’t want to give his DNA. Poor guy. It doesn’t look like we have anything to get a search warrant on. Still it could give him a motive. Let’s hope forensics can come up with something,” he said.

  The telephone rang and Hogan answered.

  “Special Agent Greg Hammond here. I understand our friend’s been busy again.”

  “Yeah, forensics are at the scene now finishing up.”

  “Good. Look, I’ve finished up here so I will be there in two hours.”

  “No need really. You get some sleep and we can meet tomorrow.”

  “Already on my way. Like I said, I’ll meet up with you in two hours.”

  Hogan crashed the handset down.

  “That’s all I need, FBI! Get Joe out of bed, get back to Jamie’s house, and tail him. He’s all we got,” he said. The phone rang again, “Yes what do you want?” Hogan shouted down the phone.

  “I’ll tell you what I want, Hogan. . .I want a suspect.”

  “Oh sorry, Mayor, I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “Obviously not. I hear we have another victim?”

  “Look we don’t exactly have a suspect, but we have a lead.”

  “Well do you or don’t you have a suspect. I have an interview with the media at noon tomorrow and I need some answers.”

  “You could tell them the FBI is taking over the case.”

  “Christ, Hogan, how’s that going to look, when I tell them my own police force are incapable of investigating the case. Now get me a suspect!” The phone went dead. Hogan picked up his stress ball and after a few squeezes threw it against the door.

  “That didn’t sound promising, chief.”

  “I’d swap you jobs any day, Frank. Now get to it, you’re wasting time, oh, and leave your report here on yesterday’s investigations. I need it for the file.”

  Hogan spent the next two hours going through the files with a fine-toothed comb and filled out his report on the latest murder. As dawn began to break, agent Hammond knocked on his door and entered.

  “Special agent Greg Hammond, FBI serial murder department,” he recited holding out his badge ID. Hogan looked him up and down. He was immaculately dressed in a suit with a starched shirt that looked as though it would snap. The man held his hand out to shake, his blond hair cut in a short crew cut giving him the appearance of a Marine.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed,” said Hogan shaking his hand. All FBI agents must dress this way to intimidate us lesser mortals. He looked at his own crumpled jacket and trousers and felt uncomfortable, he was still wearing yesterday’s shirt.

  “I’m up to scratch on the first three murders, but I need to see what has happened since,” he said

  “Here ya go.” Hogan pushed the files across the desk.

  “Right, if you can give me a desk, I’ll read the latest information and we can discuss the case.”

  “Take your pick; everyone’s out working on it.”

  As Hogan walked to his door to show him where to sit, he stopped in his tracks. He turned to see Hammond sitting in his chair.

  “Thanks, I’ll just sit here.”

  Hogan grunted, bit his tongue but said nothing, simply picking up his stress ball and closing the door behind him.

  ***

  Hogan’s office door opened.

  “I’m ready to see you now!” shouted Hammond.

  Hogan rushed to his office to sit in his chair but Hammond beat him to it.

  “Well, seems we have a tricky one with this ‘Crossword Killer’ don’t you think?”

  “Crossword Killer? Where did that come from?”

  “The writing on the mirror looks more like cryptic clues rather than code. He’s teasing you, man. Don’t you see? It’s not a code breaker you need, it’s a crossword expert.” Hammond opened the file at a page he had marked and laughed. “Looks like this Jamie Jameson ran rings around Frank in the interview. When were you thinking of arresting him? We could do with a search warrant before he has chance to hide anything.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “On what grounds?” he shouted, standing up and gripping the desk. “On the grounds that there is probable cause. He knew the last two victims. He was the last one to see Grace alive. He had a grudge against them, and he was downright evasive in his interview. His DNA is likely a match. What have you boys been doing all this time? What more do you need? Those are the grounds!” Hammond spread his hands like, what’s the matter with you, stupid?

  Hogan went red in the face feeling a rage well up inside.

  “But. . .but. . .okay, but he has an alibi, he has proof he slept in the hotel, there’s ample video tape evidence.”

  “How did you work that out? What if he sneaked out of the fire escape to avoid the cam and what if Sandra knew he had left the room? That would give him motive. After all, you told him foolishly you couldn’t interview her because she was on vacation.”

  Hogan’s face was hot now, but this time with embarrassment at his incompetence.

  “Look, Frank is at the house now. Earlier he checked Jamie’s car and the engine was cold.”

  “What does that tell you?” Hammond asked. “He took a taxi or has another car stashed away. Have you checked with the singles’ club to see if the other two girls have a connection to the club?”

  “No but...”

  “No buts about it, Chief Hogan, your investigation leaves a lot to be desired. I suggest you prepare to submit for a search warrant... like right now!”

  Hogan left the room in a sulk. He called the duty attorney to prepare the papers then phoned to make an appointment with the Judge.

  ***

  Later in the day armed with the search warrant, Hogan contacted Frank.

  “Any movement at his house you can see?”

  “Yeah, his kids left, but he’s still in there.”

  “If he tries to leave, bring him in for questioning and phone me.”

  “Wait a minute, there’s a guy just pulling up now. He’s wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. Could be his accountant or business partner. I’ll check his registration.”

  “Okay, stand by. We have a team on their way now.”

  Hogan and Hammond led the way with the forensics van following and a search team.

  “What about his DNA? You know it’s likely it will match?” said Hogan.

  “Not our problem,” Hammond said, “that’s for a jury to decide. There’s enough circumstantial evidence. The DNA just puts icing on the cake,” he replied as Hogan’s cell phone rang.

  “Hi, Frank here, the guy has just left and guess what?”

  “Come on, Frank, no time for games.”

  “It was only Ed Carson from Carson and Co, the swanky attorney.”

  “Okay, there in three minutes.”

  Hogan relayed the turn of events to Hammond.

  “See, what did I tell you? Why would he be seeing an attorney if he had nothing to hide?”

  Pulling up at the house, Hogan and Hammond jumped out of the car and were joined by Frank and Joe. Other officers jumped out, crouched down and aimed their rifles at the house. Standing to one side of the door and drawing their revolvers Hammond rang the bell. Jamie
opened the door with a cup of coffee in his hand.

  Hogan held a paper in front of him as Hammond handed the coffee to another officer and handcuffed him.

  “Jamie Jameson, this is a search warrant. We’re arresting you on suspicion of murder.” Hogan read him his rights.

  “Better if you give me the keys to your house and car, Jamie, then we can lock up after we finish.”

  Jamie said nothing, but nodded towards the coffee table for them to pick up his keys.

  “Is there anything you want to tell us, Jamie, to save us time?”

  “Yeah there’s a card on the coffee table with my attorney’s number. Other than that, I have nothing to say.”

  Jamie was taken to a police car and driven away. Hogan and Hammond went to work.

  “Look over here, a newspaper folded at the crossword page and a crossword book,” said Hogan.

  “Put them in an evidence bag,” Hammond ordered.

  One of the search team shouted down from upstairs.

  “What do you want us to do with the clothes? Most of them are new and still have the labels? Oh, and you may want to take a look at this card we found in his robe?”

  “Interesting,” Hammond raised an eyebrow. “Looks like he’s destroyed most of his clothes. And look at this, Tim Johnson, Psychiatrist,” Hammond read from the card.

  “Anything in the car?” asked Hogan.

  “No, it’s clean.”

  “Did I read in the file Jamie had been off sick after the murder of Grace?” asked Hammond.

  “Yeah, three days, Monday to Wednesday he was off work.”

  “The shrink isn’t going to give anything away. Get a copy of his phone record and see if he phoned his doctor or psychiatrist. If the DNA is positive, we can try for a court order to look at his medical records.”

  “Already been arranged, I’ll telephone Madge to check it out.”

  Frank entered the house and spoke to Hogan.

  “I’ve just had a call back from Margaret at the singles’ club. The first two victims joined the club six months ago, and Jamie only joined two weeks ago.”

  “Okay, I’ve seen enough, let’s get back and hammer him,” said Hammond.

  ***

  At the precinct, Jamie had a distinct feeling of Déjà vu. The desk sergeant booked him in. They took a sample of his DNA with a swab, stripped off his belt and shoes and then showed him to a cell. He jumped as the solid metal door clanked shut. He stared at the door wondering how he had gotten into this predicament. He walked over, banged on the door and the little peep-door opened.